Partition C
by liaSonlovR
Summary: Liason. Completed. You'll love it.


_A/N: Well, I didn't think I'd be writing another story/FF for awhile, but I missed writing, especially Liason FF so much, so I just thought I'd write what I had been thinking about for the past like, 5 minutes_

_I didn't think I'd be writing a story for a realllllllly long time. But I found this in my documents; it was half-written, and I had completely forgotten about it. I'm a little rusty, so this may not be as good as it could be, but regardless, I hope you enjoy it._

_Please leave some feedback! _

**Partition**

After she became a nurse, Elizabeth Webber had finally been proud of herself. Being a nurse represented so many other things for her than just getting a stable job. That job was a respectable one, one that she knew brought her a lot of knowledge and future experience. This would overshadow her problems and stupid mistakes she had made in the past, and when people would think of her, they'd think of the wonderful and the most thoughtful nurse they ever had the pleasure of being tended to.

Boy was she wrong.

_Dead_ wrong.

Who was she kidding? Even when she took an oath to help save the lives of others, she knew that deep down, this wasn't her passion. She was on the wrong side of the situation. She should be the one lying in the hospital bed, not the one tending to someone in it.

And that's why she left.

For other reasons too of course, but right now, that didn't matter much. Everyone would find out soon enough.

She stood on her tiptoes, counting to see how many people were in front of her. Bringing herself back down, Elizabeth observed the crowded and hectic train station. Coats were flying everywhere, people were barking into their cell phones left and right, and the small stands selling coffee were bombarded with business men and women who needed a fresh cup to get through their day. There really was nothing else for her to do than to wait for her turn. But then again, patience was never a quality found in Elizabeth.

And that's what he loved most about her.

As she shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently, she readjusted the thick strap of the black duffel bag on her small shoulder and frustratingly blew the bangs on her forehead, knowing that they would fall back into the same position they were in anyway.

Her hair was never meant to be tamed, and neither was she.

Her cheeks flushed, she sprinted towards the moving train that was gradually gaining speed, her black bag swinging violently around her arm almost knocking over a man who was in just as much of a hurry as she was.

"I'm coming, I'm _coming_!" She panted in gasps. By the time she had gotten her ticket, she had to race all the way to the other side of the station in a little over four minutes.

This train was her last chance. If it went, so did all the chances of Elizabeth ever seeing Jason again.

You see, Elizabeth had made a huge mistake in believing in the amount of compensation her nursing job would have for her past mistakes. And "mistakes" were putting it mildly. She had made the worst possible choices anyone could have ever made, and to top off her ignorance back then, she had made those critical choices with the worst imaginable people.

She hadn't seen Jason in what, six or seven years? And yet she still trusted him. That's how they always were and that's how they were always going to stay. He had made those same mistakes with her, but unlike her, he had stayed on the run and had avoided the past coming back to him.

Until now. When it had crept up behind them both so fast that she could only grab the essentials of what she would need to survive.

Manny Ruiz had been searching for them ever since that fatal shot from her gun.

And he was now closer than he ever was before.

She leaped onto the moving train and the last call was shouted. Her bag slipped off her shoulder, and Elizabeth sagged against one of the seats, letting out a long, tired breath.

Now she had to find Jason.

Groaning as she lugged her bag back onto her aching shoulder, Elizabeth bumped and grunted her way along the aisle until she found her seat. The man checked her ticket beforehand, so Elizabeth gladly tucked her bag away in the provided compartment.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to rest until she freshened up with some cool water on her face, she slowly stood up from her seat and headed toward what she thought was the bathroom.

In the corner facing the window of one of the seats, she spotted a dirty blonde head with spikes in the front.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Was it really… could it?

She gently cleared her throat, and when the man turned around, Elizabeth willed her heart to slow down. She closed her eyes…

It wasn't him.

Disappointment swept over her body and Elizabeth mentally chastised herself for leading her mind into an illusion she so desperately wanted to be reality.

She continued her way to the back compartment, and turned the knob to open, but it wouldn't budge. Frowning, Elizabeth gripped the handle tighter and pressed her shoulder against the narrow door, urging it to open because her bladder couldn't hold much any longer. As she pushed for a third time, the door slowly opened from the other side, and Elizabeth stumbled into the room with confusion and surprise masked on her face.

Smoke filled her baby blue eyes and her lungs, causing her vision to blur with the safeguarding tears, and her lungs to heave with the heavy smoke caught in her chest.

There were men circled around a marked table with heavy cigars caught in their wrinkled mouths, blowing out round "O"s into the small atmosphere, hiding their faces.

Elizabeth stood there, quiet and in a haze. Through the smoke, she was surprised that she detected a familiar scent. One she would always remember…

When the smoke subsided in an area, Elizabeth saw what was on the table: a mass of playing cards. Her eyes quickly darted to the strong semi-tan hand that threw five into the bunch in the center. She slowly crept her eyes from the hand slowly and shakingly to the arm…then the neck…then the face…

Then the eyes.

The blue azure eyes that had once promised her security and even…love.

She let out a small, choked up gasp (from the lack of oxygen in the room) when she met his eyes. She sensed the small blink of panic in his orbs, and that confused her.

What the hell was he doing here? In such a weird situation, that's just not like him. Not like him at all.

Her amazement got distracted, however, when another hand joined the center of the carved table. Tattooed and scarred, he threw his cards as well into the growing pile.

Not even throwing her a glance, Manny Ruiz spoke in a deep and calmly menacing tone, "Well, Mr. Morgan. It seems we have lost this round." He slowly brought his lit cigar to his scarred mouth, and addictingly inhaled the smoke, seeming satisfied with his relaxed close eyes. He slowly let out a breath and continued. "But judging from our new visitor, I don't think we lost as much we thought we had."

Jason had recovered by then, and wouldn't look Elizabeth in the eyes. His neck was tense, but he smoothly recovered with a languid sip of his beer, and an unwavering look to the ghastly looking man.

The nasty mobster's eyes gleamed with appreciation as he looked Elizabeth up and down, as if studying his favorite painting for the hundredth time.

"Right on time, Ms. Webber. You're not a moment too late. I've been waiting."


End file.
